


I Need Somebody

by endermanlovebot



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Depression, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, It'll be happy eventually but for now? depressing, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Student!Jongho, Student!Yunho, This is going to be really sad guys, barista!yunho, buckle up boys, heed the warnings, i can write a thruple bc i am in one i know how things work okay i am smart, pairings will develop later, please read the warnings i beg of you, student!hongjoong, student!mingi, there won't be any cheating in this fic it's gonna be a thruple
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:54:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23640391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endermanlovebot/pseuds/endermanlovebot
Summary: Jongho will be happy. One day.Today is not that day.
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Jeong Yunho, Choi Jongho/Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Choi Jongho/Song Mingi
Comments: 11
Kudos: 76





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ THE TAGS! Also, if you know me irl, you may not want to read this, I promise I'm fine, I'm just projecting. Sunday chilling, don't @ me I'm projecting. Title from Day6's I Need Somebody, which I listen to on repeat while writing this. This will be happy eventually.

Jongho is happy.

Why wouldn’t he be? He’s doing well in school, has his apartment, remembers to eat. Most days. He doesn’t have many friends, but that’s okay. He’s happy. 

He’s busy, sometimes too busy, but he always manages. He keeps his head above water, doesn’t fail any classes. Sure, he pulls a few all-nighters, and he can’t remember the last time he got a good night’s sleep, but that’s okay. He’s happy. 

He dances, too. And sings. His parents marvel at how he can manage his extracurriculars on top of his schoolwork. He glows with the praise, and for a moment, it soothes the bone-deep ache. He’s tired, and sore, and all he wants is a hot shower and some sleep, maybe a day off, but that’s okay. He’s happy. 

The barista at the local coffee shop always has his order ready. Sometimes, it’s ready even before Jongho gets in the door. He’s a nice guy, tall and friendly, but his smile always seems a little sad when he sees Jongho for the third, fourth, fifth time that day, picking up coffee with as much caffeine as he can handle. Sure, he shakes sometimes, and he can’t tell if it’s the lack of sleep or the caffeine, but that’s okay. He’s happy. 

He works out. He goes to the gym three times a week, can tell the positive impact it’s had on his body. Working out helps him clear his head, and it’s a good kind of ache. It’s a good kind of hurt, to be sore after a good workout. His arms shake when he tries to lift weights, but that’s only when he’s adding more weight than he’s used to. His legs shake sometimes, too, when he stands up and tries to walk. He ignores that. It’s okay. He’s happy. 

He catches himself falling asleep sometimes, in class, on the bus, at the table in the cafe. He shakes it off, orders his coffee extra strong, and gets an energy drink too for good measure. He can hear his mother’s disapproving tut over the caffeine, but that’s okay. He’s making her proud. He’s happy. 

His friends worry about him. They don’t say it to his face, but he knows they talk about him behind his back, talk about how little he eats, how the bags under his eyes get darker as the weeks go by. They slip snacks into his bag, remind him to drink water, accompany him to the gym to make sure he doesn’t overexert himself. Sometimes, he hears Hongjoong talking, when the older doesn’t know he’s listening. He talks about how worried he is, how Jongho works too much and sleeps too little, how he’s worried that Jongho doesn’t eat, forgets to eat, won’t eat. How Jongho seems lifeless, how his schedule is too hard, how he’s putting too much on himself. 

Jongho doesn’t care.

He’s happy.

He’s happy, really, he is.

So what if he panics sometimes, break downs and cries when it all gets to be too much? So what if he forgets to eat, goes hours, even days without a proper meal, until the ache in his stomach can’t be ignored, until he’s weak and shaking and his head _hurts_ , a dull pain that won’t go away? So what if he’s pushed his limits a little too far, so what if the room starts to sway and he gets feverish and sweaty, so what if he’s miserable?

He’s

Miserable. 

He brushes it off. 

There’ll be time for that later.

He has class. 

Time passes, too slowly and then too quickly, like molasses spilling out of the bottle and he thinks he has time, time to catch up, time to stop, time to maybe take a nap or a shower or take a day off and then there’s molasses all over the floor and he’s late, running to catch up, running to catch the bus, running to the gym because he promised Mingi he’d be there at 4 and it’s already 4:15 and he hates being late, hates making people wait, hates disappointing people, and everything’s a mess and he’s so, so tired. 

Everyone notices and no one notices and it’s all too much. 

Hongjoong worries over him, frets about how little sleep he gets, but his mom doesn’t know he’s lying when Jongho tells her about his week. That hurts, too, somewhere deep down inside him. His own mother doesn’t notice, can’t tell that Jongho’s lying to her, but Mingi knew Jongho was having a bad day and brought him doughnuts and a movie and hung out with him for three hours, even though Mingi had a test the next day? His mom doesn’t notice that Jongho’s voice is flat, full of fake cheer on their calls, but the barista at the coffee shop gave Jongho a free muffin because he thought Jongho looked upset? 

Jongho pushes it away, pushes it all away, compresses it into a tiny ball that still weighs heavy in his gut, and tries to ignore it, wipes away the tears as best he can and tells himself sternly to stop overthinking things. It’s not his mom’s fault. Jongho’s the one lying. He’s the bad one here, not her. If he wants something he can ask. He’s an adult. 

His mom catches on, once, asks if Jongho’s hiding something from her. His throat goes tight, mouth dry, breaths coming faster. Fuck, fuck, he’s fucked up, she’s gonna kill him- 

“Are you dating someone?”

“Huh?”

She laughs. “No need to sound so afraid! I won’t interrogate you, don’t worry. I just...well, there are some things that children don’t share with their parents, obviously, but I’m curious. You’re so busy, you’re involved in so many things, and I don’t mean to pry, but I just wondered, you know, if you might be seeing anyone?”

Okay. Okay. Everything’s okay. He’s going to be fine.

He laughs, forced and shaky. “No, Mom, I’m not dating anyone. I would tell you if I was, if it was serious enough.”

She hums, and Jongho can picture her, sitting back in her chair, nodding wisely. “Well, that’s good to hear.” There’s a pause, and then his mom chuckles lightly. “Got any people you might want to date?” Her voice is light, casual, a little teasing. It’s a serious question, yes, but asked in a casual manner. His mom is good at that.

He says no, more out of habit than anything else. He hasn’t thought about dating anyone since he got out of his last relationship. 

Sometimes, he wonders if that makes him broken.

Why doesn’t he think about dating? Why doesn’t he want someone to hold, to cuddle with on lazy days or when he’s upset? His friends do. Mingi never shuts up about how badly he wants to be cuddled, draping himself over Hongjoong whenever he has the chance. Hongjoong’s quieter about it, but no less passionate. Sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly vulnerable, he confesses how much he thinks about marriage, especially now that they’re in college. That the next person they meet, date, see, could be the one, the person they marry, the person they spend the rest of their life with. 

They ask Jongho if he feels the same.

He doesn’t.

It leaves a hollow, sickly sort of feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He thinks about dating, sometimes. How the barista is nice, yeah, but he’s cute, too. Seems like he would give good hugs. Always smiles at Jongho, has his order ready, laughs at the dumb jokes that Jongho occasionally musters up the courage to tell him. 

Sometimes Jongho thinks about his friends, and what it’d be like to date them. Hongjoong is too...parental. He’s fun and all, but he’s too much of a mother hen for Jongho to really like him. Mingi is…

Mingi is…

Cute, at times. He’s a cute person, underneath the intimidating exterior. He cleans up nicely, too, can look good as all hell when he actually wears something that fits him and puts a little effort into his hair. Jongho still remembers when Mingi forgot to buy a shirt with his suit (they’d teased him for hours) but still wore it, how Jongho’s breath had caught and how he’d spent a little too long staring at the deep V of the jacket, unable to tear his eyes away from Mingi’s chest, how he’d been rudely, abruptly confronted with the fact that _shit, Mingi’s hot_.

But Mingi’s too good for him.

He deserves someone who’ll make him laugh, who’ll cuddle him and take cheesy pictures with him. He deserves someone good, not someone like Jongho. Jongho doesn’t make him laugh, doesn’t cuddle him, isn’t cute enough to be cute or hot enough to be hot and Mingi is so much both of those things, so Jongho pushes it out of his mind and doesn’t think about dating.

He doesn’t miss dating, anyway. Thinking about dating, and people, and trying to find reasons why people might want to date him, out of all people, only upsets him. Because, well, he’s not worth dating. But that’s okay. He doesn’t miss dating.

He’s too busy, anyway. Busy with classes and homework and dance and singing and working out.

Maybe if he’s busy enough, it’ll soothe the empty ache.

Maybe if he’s busy enough, he’ll forget.

It works, sometimes. He gets lost in the familiar routine, busy days blurring together until he hardly notices the time passing. His schedule keeps him going, keeps him organized. He goes to class, does his homework, works out, dances or sings if he has time. He showers every day. He’s very careful to. Standing under the hot water, the drops beating a heavy rhythm against his back, he can finally relax. He can think, he can breathe, he can use the nice conditioner that he bought at Walmart and the body wash that Hongjoong gave him as a gift. It smells like coconut and vanilla. The scent relaxes him and reminds him that his friends care.

The water beats a familiar, comforting rhythm against his back. 

Sometimes it tastes like salt.

Sometimes it runs red.

Jongho turns off the water, towels off, makes a face at himself in the mirror. The routine wraps itself around him, comforting, warm, safe. Everything will be okay if he just keeps going, doesn’t stop, doesn’t dare stop. Stopping means thinking, and thinking is strictly reserved for the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, clutching the knife he’d stolen from his parents house, waiting for the day he gets brave enough to use it.

He plays Borderlands for a while, gets Mingi to help him because god knows Jongho is terrible at Borderlands. They play late, later than they should, and Jongho’s cheeks hurt from laughing by the end of it. He loves this, loves the opportunity to hang out with Mingi, loves the game even though he’s terrible at it, loves it because Mingi loves it, loves it because he loves-

He loves-

No.

That’s thinking.

That’s not allowed.

Stick to the routine.

He signs off, thanks Mingi for playing so long, makes the excuse that he has to get up early for classes. It’s not a lie, but it feels like one. Jongho doesn’t want to sleep, doesn’t want this moment to end, doesn’t want to stop playing games with his friend, doesn’t want to stop being happy. But he closes the game, apologizes to his laptop for testing its processing limits, and goes to bed.

His arms hurt.

Everything hurts.


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! please take a moment to reread the fic tags and remember that while this fic will eventually be happy, it most assuredly is _not_ happy right now. proceed mindfully.

The sun feels too bright. It always does, nowadays. It hurts his eyes and dries out his throat and leaves him with a splitting headache that stays for hours. But he drags himself out of bed, changes clothes for the first time in days, and goes for a walk.

It helps, a little. He plays music a little too loud, wanders around the park near campus until the sun starts to set. Walking always makes him feel better. Makes him feel like he isn’t trapped. He runs sometimes, when everything starts to slow and the walls start to close in. Those days are always the worst. He runs until his breathing is ragged, until every breath comes with a sharp, stabbing pain in his chest, until he doubles over and his throat closes up and panic sets in, until he’s convinced that he’s pushed himself too far this time.

He never has.

He always recovers.

He always ends up being fine.

Always.

He wants to be more than fine, wants it so bad his chest hurts and his throat closes up and everything swells up and he sobs, a broken, wretched sound that hurts so much more than it should. He wants to be happy, sad, excited, anything more than the numbness, the emptiness that fills him until he can’t breath. He wants more than a temporary respite from everything, wants his smile to last even after Mingi ends the call, wants the hunger to last longer than it takes to get his meal, wants the pain to last longer because at least then he isn’t numb, at least then he feels something other than nothing.

He’s frustrated. 

It fades. Quickly, like the flitting light of a candle. 

Nothing lasts very long.

He tries to stay busy, to find things that make him happy, things that last. He sings, he dances, he works out, he plays games.

He’s not good enough at those either.

His voice cracks, he can’t hit notes, he hates the tone and pitch of his voice. Hates how it sounds on recordings. Doesn’t know how people can stand to listen to him talk.

Maybe they can’t.

His dancing is...fine. It’s nothing special. It’s not bad, not always, but it’s nothing exceptional. Nothing worth telling anyone about.

Working out doesn’t help, either. No matter how much he tries, he’s never going to like himself. It’s not going to change his face, not going to make him attractive, not going to stop the clawing, bubbling hatred that festers in his stomach every time he catches a glimpse of himself.

Playing games is fun, especially when he does it with Mingi. But sometimes Mingi invites Hongjoong to play with them, and that’s good, it’s fun, and they’re all friends, but Jongho feels...wrong. He doesn’t belong with them. Mingi and Hongjoong know how to play Borderlands, they can run ahead and complete three missions before Jongho’s even figured out which gun he’s supposed to be using, and it’s a stupid thing to get upset about because they’re playing to help him, they want him to like the game they like and they want to help him out, and it’s stupid, he’s stupid, he’s so stupid for not being able to fucking handle something so-

Jongho stops himself, takes a deep, shuddering breath. It’s fine. It’s fine. Move on.

His classes go well. Really well, actually. It catches him off-guard, after so many years of being second-best, of being not quite good enough. He’s actually...doing remarkably well. 

Huh.

It doesn’t feel like it, though. It’s hard to feel like he’s doing well, like he’s succeeding, when he can barely get out of bed in the morning, has to bully himself into doing his work because otherwise he’ll lie in bed, caught between panicked tears and blank emptiness for hours. Not when he doesn’t shower for days, and when he does, he turns the water up so hot it’s almost painful and stays in until it runs cold. 

The routine, the one thing that’s kept him going, doesn’t feel so comfortable any more. He’s tired. He doesn’t feel a need anymore, a drive, motivation, anything. He’s just tired. He stays up too late, until his eyes burn and his limbs ache, and then sleeps too late, hates himself for how hard it is to get out of bed. 

Days pass, weeks, blurring into months, and then suddenly altogether too much time has passed and Jongho can’t stand it, hates how the days don’t matter anymore and the hours turn into entire semesters that he just... _misses_. This is important, this time is supposed to be important, meaningful, and it’s running away, it’s passing through his fingers like grains of sand and the more he tries to hold onto them, the faster they slip away. Time passes, and he still doesn’t have a job, he still hasn’t finished learning that song, he hasn’t looked at that dance he promised to learn with Mingi even though Mingi’s miles better at dancing than he is, he still hasn’t told Mingi he likes-

No.

Jongho stops himself, swallows down the bile and the tears, presses his palms against his eyes until there’s spots dancing in his vision. 

He gets sick of it, after a while.

Sick enough that he does something impulsive and stupid.

He was standing in line at the coffee shop, thinking about Mingi.

He hadn’t meant to be thinking about Mingi, it just sort of...happened. It’d been happening a lot lately. In Jongho’s defense, they’d played Borderlands for about six hours last night, and he’d fallen asleep thinking about Mingi’s laugh.

He was standing there, thinking about Mingi, and dating, and whether or not his life was empty and Jongho was broken for not wanting or needing a romantic relationship to feel complete.

Usual stuff.

He looked at the barista, and for the first time, really read his name tag. He’d seen it every day for months now, and knew the name on it, but now he felt like he was really reading it.

Yunho.

“Can I get your number?”

Yunho blinked, almost dropping Jongho’s cup. “Excuse me?”

Jongho stared back at him, unfazed. “Your phone number. May I have it? You can say no, we haven’t talked a lot. You seem nice and I’d like to get to know you, and I think you’d get along with my friends.”

Yunho seemed too shocked to reply, silence stretching between them for a long moment. He nodded, cheeks coloring slightly. “Um. Okay.” He writes his number on a napkin, hands Jongho his drink, and quickly turns away.

Jongho texts him politely that night. 

“Hi, this is Jongho (from the coffee shop). I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable. There’s no pressure to talk to me.”

The reply comes quickly. “It’s okay! I just wasn’t expecting to be asked for my number.”

“That’s fair. Do you want me to stop texting you?”

“No! I just don’t really know you that well. Why did you want me number, if I can ask?”

“You seem nice, and I feel like you’d get along with my friends.”

“Are you trying to set me up with one of them?”

Jongho blinks. “No?” He writes back. “I really just think you guys would get along.”

The reply takes longer to come this time, the ‘typing’ notification disappearing and reappearing several times. “It’s just, normally when one asks for someone’s number, and then says it’s for their friend, they’re either scared to say they like you or they’re trying to set you up with someone.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to give you that impression. I apologize. And no offense intended, for...not trying to set you up.”

“It’s okay.”

Jongho doesn’t reply to that one. Good job, Jongho, you fucked up with the one stranger who didn’t think you’re a total fuckup! Bet he does now, you fucking moron! If you could just be a normal person and hold a conversation without being weird, maybe you could’ve had something good. But you can’t. You don’t deserve good things, if this is how you act when they show up. Ungrateful, stupid bitch. Now he thinks you’re an idiot, and you’ve ruined any chance you had at making a friend. Can’t even handle a friend, how will you ever handle a relationship? Good thing no one wants to date you anyway.

He turns over, ignoring the wet patch on his pillow, and goes to sleep.

He stops taking care of himself. It’s stupid, and he knows it’s only going to make him feel worse, but a part of him wants that. Wants him to feel as bad physically as he does emotionally. Wants him to feel gross and disgusting because he is, and maybe if he doesn’t shower or brush his teeth often enough then people will avoid him and he won’t have to worry about disappointing them.

It makes him feel worse, of course. It makes getting out of bed harder, makes going out to class or to the store harder, but he likes that too, in a twisted sort of way. It makes it easier to stay in, avoid people, isolate himself and stay locked up with no one and nothing to distract himself from his thoughts.

People notice.

His friends text him, sometimes directly asking if he’s okay, sometimes trying to convince him to hang out or play games. He ignores them, and gets a sick sense of satisfaction in knowing that it hurts their friendship. Maybe one day they’ll leave him, they’ll see that he’s not worth their time, and he can stop hurting everyone and wasting their time. He’s not worth it.

Mingi notices, and that hurts.

Mingi texts him the most. He’s persistent. After Jongho didn’t reply to some casual texts, Mingi sent a long one, which Jongho had promptly screenshotted and cried himself to sleep over every night.

“Hey, I know you haven’t been replying, and I don’t know what’s going on, but if there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know. I know it’s hard for you to talk to people sometimes, and that sometimes you just want to be alone, so I’ll try not to push you too much. If it’s okay, I’m just going to keep talking to you like I normally would. You don’t have to say anything; I just thought it might be comforting to know that you can always reach out if you want. You don’t have to explain yourself or anything. You can tell me everything or nothing, and that’s okay. I just want to be here for you. You mean a lot to me, and I know I’m probably not the closest friend you have, but I really care about you. Stay safe, Jongho. Please.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please be mindful of the tags! thank you to everyone who has commented so far, your kind words mean more than you know. i love you all.
> 
> this chapter is fairly cheerful, relatively speaking.

Jongho avoids Mingi for another month. The absence hurts, and he knows he’s only making things worse, but he does it anyway. He can’t be around anyone right now. 

He builds up a new routine. Wake up, cry in bed until he’s running late, then beat himself up for being late until he gets to class. In class, he stares at the wall, not hearing anything that’s said. Some of his teachers glance at him, expecting him to participate. He always does, always knows the answer or wants to guess, always wants to debate some idiot. 

But he doesn’t.

And his teachers notice, of course, but they don’t say anything. It’s not their place. He’s just a student, just another face in the sea of faces in their class, just another kid having a hard time.

After all, Jongho notes bitterly, it’s pretty obvious. He’s usually talkative, dressed casually but nicely. Now, he can’t remember the last time he took a shower, much less changed his clothes. He probably looks like shit, but he can’t be bothered to look in a mirror to confirm.

All in all, he’s settling himself in nicely for a depressive period when he runs into Mingi.

Quite literally, as it so happens.

In retrospect, it was Jongho’s fault. Mingi’s pretty hard to miss, being over six feet tall and having a shock of brightly dyed red hair. He has a loud voice and a louder laugh, and Jongho really should’ve seen him.

But he doesn’t, because he’s staring at the ground, and the next thing he knows he’s hitting something solid and warm and falling backwards.

He blinks, a little disoriented, and then looks up and sees-

Mingi.

Mingi, who’s wearing jeans and a white t-shirt and looks better in it than Jongho ever could, who’s hair is actually styled for once, brushed back off his forehead, who looks way too good for Jongho to be seeing right now. He’s suddenly very aware that he’s wearing an old hoodie that’s probably got a few too many holes and stains to be considered presentable, and that his hair hasn’t been brushed, much less washed, in far too long.

Mingi smiles down at him, and the relief and happiness in his eyes from seeing Jongho makes Jongho want to cry.

He holds out a hand, which Jongho reluctantly accepts, brushing himself off. Mingi immediately bends down to get his books, which Jongho protests, but Mingi ignores. Jongho restored, he fully intends to make a speedy getaway and go cry in his apartment, but Mingi, of course, starts talking.

“Hey man, what’s up?”

That’s it. No “why have you been ghosting me for two months”, no “where the hell have you been, we’ve had three movie nights”, no anger, no hatred, no betrayal, just...friendly. Warm. Caring. Jongho’s vision blurs, and he swallows hard, taking a minute to compose himself.

“Not much. You?” His voice is dry, hoarse; fuck, when was the last time he talked to someone?

Mingi shrugs. “The usual, just classes and stuff.” 

Jongho hums in response, picking at a hole in his sweatshirt. Maybe he can leave, and Mingi will forget this happened, forget he’s seen Jongho like this.

“Do you want to get some food? My treat. I just finished a test, so I’m done for the day.”

It’s not just an offer for lunch, Jongho knows that. Mingi wants to talk to him, and this is his way of showing Jongho that even though Jongho hasn’t spoken to him in months, he still wants to be friends. 

Jongho doesn’t deserve his friendship.

He shakes his head. “Sorry, I’m not really hungry. Besides,” He gestures down at his clothes. “I’m not really dressed to go out.”

“Maybe tonight?” Mingi asks. “We don’t have to go out. You can come over to my apartment! Hongjoong’s going to Seonghwa’s, and says he isn’t gonna spend the night, but he’s a liar and unrealistic, so I’ll have the place to myself. Please?” He pouts, and fuck, that’s cheating. 

“Okay.” Jongho relents. He has a feeling he’s going to regret this, but what else can he do? Mingi was pouting at him, and Jongho may work out, but he’s not strong enough to resist Mingi’s pout.

Mingi’s face lights up, and he grins so widely that Jongho’s cheeks hurt from looking at it. “Great!” He says happily. “Seven okay?”

Jongho mumbles a “yes”, then makes up some excuse about needing to catch his bus and runs away. He does have a bus to catch, technically, but it’s not too far to just walk to his apartment, and he needs the extra time to have a crisis.

First item of crisis: Mingi saw him at peak depression, and Jongho has a lot of work to do to redeem himself. He starts writing a mental list. Take a shower, brush your teeth, brush your hair. Change your clothes. Wear good clothes to Mingi’s. 

Second item of crisis: He’s going to Mingi’s apartment tonight, and he is not mentally prepared for the amount of social interaction that is going to be required. Even though it’s just Mingi. Jongho’s tolerance for social interaction has been hovering somewhere around a 0 lately, on a scale of 1-10, and Mingi is great, but he’s really energetic, and Jongho’s a little worried that he’s going to shut down if Mingi gets too excited. He’ll bring his backpack, he decides. Have his laptop with him, and then he can play games or something with Mingi instead of talking so much.

Third, and most unfortunate, item of crisis: Mingi is hot. Like, really hot. And Jongho isn’t. Moreover, he isn’t prepared for how attractive Mingi is, and after having been rudely reintroduced to the subject of Mingi being hot, he’s not sure how he’s going to make it through the night with just him and Mingi.

Several crises to be managed, but Jongho thinks through them on the walk back to his apartment. The first two crises, he has solutions too. Clean up and bring some extra stuff, and he should be fine. The last one…

Thinking about the last crisis violated Jongho’s very strict rule on Not Thinking, so he brushed it off. He would deal with that later.

He takes a shower, revels in the feeling of the water running over him. Fuck, it’s been way too long since he’s showered, and it feels so damn nice that he stays in until his fingers wrinkle and the water starts to run cold. He towels off, makes a face at his reflection. He’s smiling as he gets dressed, almost giddy with excitement. He’s _happy_ , he realizes. He’s excited to see Mingi, watch dumb tv shows and get his ass kicked in every video game under the sun. 

Of course, the voice that’s taken up residence in the back of his head is still there, reminding him that he avoided Mingi for two months, which he’s bound to hold a grudge for. Mingi saw him earlier, saw the state he was in. He knows Jongho’s not okay.

Jongho squashes the voice down, brushes his hair with more force than absolutely necessary, and grabs his backpack. Mingi’s apartment is across campus, about a thirty minute walk, but Jongho doesn’t mind. He likes walking. It helps him clear his head.

He gets to Mingi’s apartment a little early, but knocks anyway. There’s some clattering noises (ominous), then Mingi opens the door. If he’s surprised to see that Jongho actually showed up, he doesn’t show it. He smiles widely and lets Jongho in, motioning for him to take off his shoes and set his bag down.

“I, uh, am not good at cooking but I tried.” Mingi says, gesturing towards the stove in an embarrassed sort of way. Jongho groans, heading over and surveying the damage.

“Mingi, I love and support you.” Jongho says, and Mingi sighs dramatically.

“Don’t say that, Jongho, you only say that when you’re disappointed.” Mingi whines, pouting, and Jongho rolls his eyes.

“I say it other times.” He grumbles. His inability to express affection to his friends is something he’s sensitive about, especially since his friends give affection so easily. He just...can’t. He doesn’t like physical affection, whether it’s for some bullshit reason like his parents didn’t hug him enough as a child or otherwise, and a lot of his friends do, so Jongho’s always the odd one out. 

Mingi hums affirmatively, stepping away from the stove to let Jongho do his thing. To fix what Mingi had done, more accurately. Mingi was a man of many, many talents, but cooking was not one of them. Besides, Jongho likes cooking. They match well together like that, sometimes. 

Jongho finishes the stir fry, barely paying attention to what Mingi’s asking him. He’s asking what movie they should watch, and given that it’s October, he wants to watch a horror movie. _Why_ exactly Mingi, of all people, wants to watch a horror movie, is beyond him. He says as much.

“I’ve been playing horror games lately!” Mingi protests. “I’m a lot less easily scared now! Plus, I watched some of this movie in class, and it’s not so bad. Some jumpscares in the first half, but the plot’s nonsensical enough that the second half and finale aren’t really all that scary.”

“What class are you watching horror movies in? I want that life.” 

“History.” Mingi says, grinning widely. Jongho rolls his eyes.

“Mingi, please pay attention in class.”

“I do! That was an exception.” His smile turns sly. “Plus, since I’ve seen it before, so I won’t be scared.”

Jongho raises an eyebrow. “So this is all a ploy to terrify me for your own amusement?”

“Essentially, yes.” Mingi says brightly. “But I’m an excellent companion for horror movies! I’m big and warm and much bigger than you, so if you get scared and smack me, it won’t hurt!”

“Hey!” Jongho protests. “I work out! I could totally hurt you.”

“Of course you could, dearest.” Mingi replies smoothly, winking. “Is the food ready? I wanna watch the movie!” 

Jongho hums, grabbing two bowls and dividing up the food. It feels...oddly domestic. Just him and Mingi, watching a movie, eating the food that they made. Jongho’s chest tightens, and he clenches his hands tightly to keep them from shaking. No thinking, Jongho. No thoughts, head empty.

They settle down on the couch, and Jongho instinctively takes the end farthest from Mingi. He doesn’t mean to, he just...doesn’t like being close to people. Physical closeness and emotional closeness are more than he can handle, and he tries to keep as much distance with people as he can.

Mingi doesn’t comment on it. He knows how Jongho is, and he doesn’t try to press him for more. That’s why Jongho likes him.

They eat while the movie sets itself up. Demon doll, possession, clueless family moves into haunted house, the usual. Jongho isn’t easily scared-he isn’t, really-but he hates horror movies. The suspense is always what kills him. He can’t stand the long silences, the slow shots, the climbing orchestral music, followed by the inevitable jump scare that he knows is coming but still makes him scream.

Jongho makes it to the wardrobe scene before he breaks. He’s sitting ramrod straight, every muscle so tense it hurts, and almost jumps out of his skin when Mingi speaks.

“Jongho, come here, you look like you’re going to die.”

Jongho scowls at him, but there’s no real anger behind it. Much as he hates to admit it, the movie would be easier to watch if he was near Mingi. He scoots over, uncomfortably aware of the distance he’s still putting between them. He-he can’t lean against Mingi. Can’t touch him. Because it might be nice, it might be too much, maybe Mingi would think he’s weird, he’s probably too heavy and he’d jump too much and be uncomfortable and-

“Can I-” Mingi stops. He looks at Jongho, a little uncertain. “Do you want to lay on my lap? You can grab my legs or the blankets if you get scared. Demons are much less scary when they’re sideways.” Jongho laughs, but it’s high, thready, nervous. Mingi keeps going. “You can grab my arm or something, too, if you want. I know you’re not a very physically affectionate person, but it’s pretty comforting to have something to hold on to when you’re scared.”

Jongho hesitates. Would that be weird? Would it be rude to turn down the offer of a lap in favor of an arm? Oh, god, why is he so fucking awkward. Why can’t he just be like Hongjoong and Mingi, who’ll climb into each other’s laps at the slightest excuse? Or even like Seonghwa, who’s cool and dignified about his physical affection, always letting Hongjoong hold his pinkie and kiss him on the cheek. Why is he so fucking weird and broken and-

“Can I touch you?”

Jongho freezes. Mingi’s looking at him, speaking softly, giving Jongho space. Space. Okay. He can breathe, he can think, he can do this.

He nods.

Mingi takes hold of his shoulders, gently, slowly moving Jongho sideways, until his head is resting on Mingi’s leg. He puts an arm around Jongho, snaking it between Jongho’s arms so that Jongho can hold his hand.

“Is this okay?” Mingi asks.

Jongho nods, too quickly, too vigorously, not trusting himself to speak. He can’t talk, can’t think, can’t move, because he’s on Mingi’s fucking lap, he’s holding Mingi’s hand, he’s going to die.

Mingi is-

Warm.

Very warm.

Are people always this warm, or is it just Mingi?

He tries to think back to the last person he hugged. His mom, probably, when she helped him move in at the start of the semester.

How long has it been since Jongho hugged someone?

“You okay?” Mingi asks, squeezing Jongho’s hand lightly. Jongho wants to cry.

He nods in response, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. He’s not going to cry. He won’t cry. This is stupid, it’s pathetic, it’s ridiculous, he shouldn’t be crying just because Mingi’s holding him. He doesn’t want to cry, he hates crying, and he knows Mingi will notice and ask him what’s wrong and Jongho can’t answer, doesn’t know the answer, doesn’t know why he’s crying just because he’s being held or if it’s because Mingi’s holding him or-

“Hey.” Mingi shakes him lightly, starting to move away from Jongho. Jongho panics, tightens his grip on Mingi’s hand, pulling it closer to his chest.

 _Don’t go._ He pleads silently. _Don’t go don’t go please don’t leave me please please please I need this please don’t leave me._

Mingi settles back down, pressing his arm tighter around Jongho. Jongho relaxes, breaths coming in quick pants. He doesn’t know why he’s being like this, but he needs Mingi to stay. He _needs _to stay here, in this bubbled moment, where Mingi’s holding him and Jongho’s warm and safe and loved.__

__They stay like that, long after the movie is finished, and Jongho’s thoughts creep back in. He didn’t ask Mingi if he was okay with this, didn’t let him get up to put away the dishes or go to the bathroom or do literally anything else. God, why is he so fucking selfish? Needy bitch much, huh? Get one ounce of affection and you can’t fucking let it go, stupid fucking desperate needy whiny-_ _

__“Do you want me to put something else on?”_ _

__Mingi’s voice breaks Jongho from his lull, and he’s suddenly hyperaware of the fact that he’s been on Mingi’s lap for far too long, and his hands are probably sweaty and he’s been clinging to Mingi’s and Mingi probably thinks he’s a touch-starved weirdo and he’s definitely overstayed his welcome._ _

__He sits up sharply, forcing himself to let go of Mingi’s hand._ _

__“No, that’s okay.” Jongho says, and he knows Mingi can hear how his voice is shaking. “I should probably head back. Classes.”_ _

__“Okay.” Mingi says. Just. Okay. Doesn’t question him, doesn’t push, doesn’t ask why._ _

__Jongho hates him for it._ _

__He leaves without returning Mingi’s cheerful: “Bye! Have a good night!”_ _

__The next morning, he wakes up to a text from Mingi._ _

__“Hey! It was nice seeing you and having you over! We should do it again sometime! We’re having discussions in history this week, so I’ll try to watch some more horror movies and get a list for us to watch. Would you be interested?”_ _

__Jongho is._ _

__He hates that he is. Hates that he wants the next movie night to come so badly, so he can spend more time with Mingi, more precious time feeling important, feeling like he matters._ _

__He writes back a simple “Yes”, and feels like his old therapist would probably be proud of him. Progress and friendship and all._ _

__It doesn’t feel like progress. Every time he thinks he’s getting better, something happens and he gets worse. Mingi gives him a hug and he spends 2 hours overanalyzing his feelings for Mingi. His teacher makes a joke that’s a little too mean and Jongho goes mute and thinks about it for the rest of the day. He can’t shower consistently to save his life and wears the same clothes for weeks on end and can’t see himself without hating every aspect of what he sees._ _

__It doesn’t feel like progress when nothing is getting better._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a surprisingly lighthearted chapter, all things considered! i hope you enjoyed it. if you like my writing, feel free to [buy me a coffee! ](https://ko-fi.com/cordsnake) . Also, the curse of being a writer, I had a good ending line in mind and then immediately forgot it, so I am not 100% content with this but what is life if not learning to accept that our creations, like us, are inherently flawed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I don't think there's any particular cw/tw for this chapter, but remember to be mindful of the tags! Also, I don't think I mentioned it anywhere, but the movie Mingi and Jongho were watching was the Conjuring. Once again, thank you all for your comments and kind words, i treasure each and every one of them.

The idea of a “bad week” is never consistent.

Sometimes it’s a bad week because he’s busy, up to his neck in assignments and barely keeping his head above water.

Sometimes it’s a bad week because he doesn’t have the energy to get out of bed but somehow drags himself to class anyway, feels worse because of it, and spends the week torn between empty numbness and tears.

Sometimes bad weeks are because he doesn’t have the energy to hang out with his friends but does anyway; sometimes it’s because he wants to be around people but there’s no one there.

So technically, even though this has been a bad week, it’s not the worst it could’ve been.

That’s what Jongho tells himself. It’s fun; almost like he’s thinking positive, but still with just enough self-hatred to remind himself that it’s not so bad and he’s overreacting.

It’s been a bad week because his classes have decided that they all need to have assignments due this week. He’s tired and strung-out, but he’s managed to make a good amount of progress on the essay. He’s gotten most of it written, just needs to make some edits and get a solid introduction and conclusion. His history test won’t be too bad, lots of memorization, but he’ll be fine. 

Of course, there’s something else that’s been bothering him this week, something that’s a lot harder to think about.

Mingi hasn’t texted him about having another movie night.

It’s only been a few days. Jongho knows he’s being stupid and overreacting; it’s not like Mingi had said he was going to text within 24 hours. But it still hurts, to see the little “read” notification floating there.

Of course, he’d probably hurt Mingi a hell of a lot more, given that he’d left Mingi on read for a month after Mingi offered Jongho a shoulder to cry on. No matter how much his friends hurt his feelings, Jongho’d always hurt them worse. Mingi was probably busy with things that were actually important, not Jongho. 

The silence stretches on, and Jongho still opens their messages every night, every morning, every break, every time he goes to the bathroom. It’s pathetic, it really is. It’s sad how badly he wants to hear from Mingi, talk to him, and yet Jongho still can’t bring himself to just type out a text and hit send. Just say “Hi”, ask him to hang out, ask how his classes are going, _something_. But he doesn’t, because he’s afraid that the absence will only make Mingi realize how little Jongho matters, and trying to talk to Mingi will make it more obvious that Jongho doesn’t know how to deal with friends and emotions.

Deep down, Jongho knows he likes Mingi.

He tries to ignore it as best he can; it’s not like it’s going to go anywhere. Jongho’s liked people before. It never goes anywhere. His goal, when he likes people, is always very simple and generally effective: become their friend, because there’s no way they’d ever like him back. It’s nice. He gets a new friend, gets to know new people, and eventually the feelings fade.

It’s better that way. He doesn’t embarrass himself by trying to flirt with people, and he doesn’t get his hopes up that anyone will reciprocate his feelings.

He’s acted on things before, of course. Taken chances, asked people for their number or snapchat before, little things like that. But it never goes anywhere. If he hasn’t gotten up the courage to be their friend, then anything else is just...pity. Pity for the weird kid in class who talks too much, stands out in all the wrong ways, who clearly doesn’t know how to talk to people. 

Jongho hates their pity.

It’s always so obvious, too. The slight pause after he asks, and then the tentative “...Sure.” He almost never actually texts them, never does anything with it. It’s clear they don’t want him to. They’re saying yes because they don’t know how to say no, or because they feel bad for him. Give the weird kid your number, he doesn’t have any friends. Pity him.

There’s nothing wrong with people not wanting to date him, not liking him, not being friends with him. Sometimes things just turn out that way, and that’s fine. But Jongho hates the pity. He doesn’t want people to feel like they have to be nice to him, have to be friends with him, have to like him.

So he pushes away his feelings, acts as normally as he can, and doesn’t text Mingi. He doesn’t want to seem clingy, especially not after he literally clung to Mingi for two hours over a couple of jumpscares.

He doesn’t need another thing to think about and stress out over. He’s busy; he doesn’t have time to fret over his stupid crush on Mingi or Mingi’s stupid smile or his stupid laugh or how nice it felt to be held. He needs sleep, a long, hot shower, and some coffee.

Jongho’s running on autopilot when he walks into the coffee shop. He’s tired, he has an essay due tomorrow and a test the day after that, and he really needs some coffee to help get him through the day.

Then he looks up and sees Yunho, and his stomach twists.

Because Jongho hadn’t ever texted him back, or come to the cafe since that whole incident.

He debates leaving, but it’s too late. Yunho’s looked up, seen him, and now it’d be rude to leave. Not more rude than leaving Yunho hanging for over a month, but rubbing salt in the wound doesn’t seem very nice.

Jongho makes his way to the counter, and fuck, Yunho’s already working on his coffee. He remembered Jongho’s order. Great job Jongho, you could’ve had a friend but instead you fucked it up, stupid fucking idiot, can’t make friends or handle conversation and now you’re pushing all of your friends away and then you’ll be miserable and alone and maybe then you’ll stop hurting people with all of your stupid fucking constant mistakes.

He avoids Yunho’s eyes. He doesn’t want to see Yunho, thinks that maybe if he doesn’t look at him, Yunho will ignore him, will let Jongho wallow in self-hatred without rubbing it in that hey, Yunho’s a nice person, why didn’t Jongho ever text him back?

“Anything else for you today?”

Jongho shakes his head wordlessly. Please, please let him get away, let him get his coffee and run away and never come back, please please please-

“Did I make you uncomfortable?”

Jongho shakes his head again, still not daring to look up. He deserves this. He deserves to get yelled at. Yunho was nice enough to give him his number, nice enough to talk to him, and Jongho ruined it.

“Sorry. I just thought-” Yunho breaks off, sighing heavily. “I gave you stuff sometimes, food and stuff. And...I wasn’t sure how you took that, and then you asked for my number. I guess I just thought...you liked me.”

He sounds…

Disappointed.

Jongho hadn’t ever considered that maybe Yunho liked him, that maybe he did nice things for Jongho not just to comfort him, but also to--to flirt with him. Maybe Yunho was happy when Jongho asked for his number. He’d blushed, hadn’t he? 

Jongho hadn’t considered that maybe it hurt Yunho’s feelings when Jongho never texted him back. Maybe Yunho had been excited, excited that Jongho finally got the hint, and then Jongho had brushed him off, made it seem like he only wanted Yunho’s number to introduce him to his friends, and then never did it. 

“I’m sorry.” Jongho says, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“It’s okay.” Yunho says. “Just...I don’t know, text me back?” He cracks a small smile. “I’m not going to pretend it didn’t upset me, but I have missed seeing you around here.”

Jongho nods, his throat tight. He doesn’t trust himself to speak.

Yunho hesitates, his fingers drumming the lid of Jongho’s drink nervously. “Um, if you want to talk or anything, I get off at 5.” 

“I’ll text you.” Jongho says, and yeah, he definitely should not have spoken. He’s clearly on the verge of tears, but Yunho doesn’t mention it. 

“Promise?” Yunho asks, his smile widening. In spite of himself, Jongho cracks a small smile in return.

“Promise.”

And Jongho does. It’s hard, much harder than it should be, but he texts Yunho. On a whim, he asks if it’d be okay if he brought his friend Mingi along, the one he’d wanted to introduce Yunho to but never got the chance. Yunho says yes, he’s excited to see Jongho and his friend.

Yunho also asks how Jongho’s been doing, what he’s up to. Jongho tells him he’s been fine, classes have been going well, he’s been busy. He asks Yunho the same, and realizes he really doesn’t know anything about Yunho.

Yunho is Mingi’s age, studying dance. He doesn’t actually like coffee that much, but since he’s started working at the cafe, he’s started to like it a lot more. 

“Why did you start working there, then?” Jongho asks, hoping desperately that isn’t a rude question to ask.

“It smells better than the bookstore. Plus, I like bagels. The customers are definitely worse than they would be in the bookstore, though, so that kinda sucks.”

“Are they assholes or do they just have complicated orders?”

“Complicated orders, usually. One of the regulars always orders his coffee with like 30 pumps of vanilla syrup and I have no idea how he still lives and has teeth.”

“Dentists hate him!”

“Sfngskskasm” Yunho replies. “Truly!”

“Is my coffee order okay?” Jongho asks, nervous in spite of himself. Damn Gen Z and their anxiety over bothering customer service workers.

“No worries! You’re one of my favorite customers! Your drink is easy to make and you’re always nice to me.”

Jongho stares at the message, a small pit starting to form in his stomach. He types back a quick “I’m glad!” before putting his phone down and staring at the ceiling.

Why had he asked Yunho for his number?

He’d been thinking about relationships, and friendships, and Mingi. He’d seen Yunho and thought “fuck it, might as well”, because Yunho seemed nice. He’d done nice things for Jongho in the past. He’d thought Yunho would get along well with Mingi.

But why?

It’s not like he knows Yunho very well; hell, this is the first conversation Jongho’s ever had with him. And yeah, Yunho does seem like he’d fit in with their friend group, from that short conversation, but still. Jongho doesn’t usually take that chance with people. 

Maybe he’d just thought Yunho was attractive and wanted to get to know him better. Be his friend, because that was all Jongho ever tried to do. But, well, Jongho didn’t usually get as far as asking for someone’s number if he hadn’t already talked to them. He didn’t want to only get it out of pity.

Maybe that’s why it’d hurt so much, when Yunho thought Jongho just wanted his number to flirt with him? That’d make sense. Jongho thought he’d been subtle but really it was obvious that he just thought Yunho was cute. But, well, he did really want to be friends with Yunho. Yunho had been disappointed that Jongho never texted him back, though, and he’d been okay with the idea of meeting Mingi, so did that mean he was also interested in Jongho? As a friend? Or maybe was he just humoring him?

Maybe, maybe, maybe; maybe it was too much for Jongho. This is why he didn’t ever fucking think about this shit. This is why he never thought about relationships and dating and whether or not he liked people, this is why he ignored his emotions and his stupid crushes until they went away and he could go back to normal. 

He ignores his phone, resolving to stare at the ceiling until the noise behind his eyes settles from panicked yelling to a quiet hum. _This is why thinking is bad, Jongho,_ He reminds himself. _Keep thinking, keep overthinking everything, and you’re gonna lose any chance you have of making a friend. You’re lucky Yunho didn’t throw that coffee in your face when he saw you. You’re lucky he’s willing to talk to you. Shut up and be grateful for what you have before you ruin it._

It’s been a bad week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another lighthearted chapter! i hope you enjoyed it! if you enjoyed this, feel free to [ buy me a coffee! ](https://ko-fi.com/cordsnake) also, happy ikon anniversary, if you saw me crying over hanbin no you didn't


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